If you were to
summarize my life's work in two words, it would easily be Texas and music. Naturally women is the
thread that connects the two. So here is what I ruminated on over Winter Break.
I travel a lot of
back roads. I always have, but now Instagram and Pinterest has taken my interest
in old abandoned places to a new level. So any chance I get, I take an
out-of-the-way road to see if there's an old building, school, theatre, or
graveyard to photograph. White Church Cemetery is one that
I discovered along the way. Not too far away from my family's homestead
(probably about 15 miles), it still sees a few visitors but is primarily filled
with graves of long forgotten Texans who settled in a harsh Canyon hoping for a
better life.
It was there that I
discovered Martha and Mamie. Martha Turner (1875-1904) was "the sunshine
of [her] home" according to her headstone. She is buried beside two baby
girls who never even made it to one month old. And upon closer examination, Martha
died nine days after baby Mamie died at birth. I've gone to plenty of old
cemeteries, but over Christmas break, her headstone hit me harder than any I've
ever seen. Think of the pain and suffering she felt in those days leading up to
her death. The immense loss. Here was this Texas woman, the same age as me, and
because of her desire to have children on this barely settled harsh land, she
died. I obviously only know what the headstones tell me, but the three small
cemeteries I visited in southern Nolan and Taylor counties were overrun with
children born in the early 20th century who never made it to their first
birthday.
On New Year's day, I
took a daisy out to her headstone. I wanted something happy to be there. I
wanted there to be a symbol that she was not forgotten. She is another example
of why I do what I do. I want to chronicle the stories of strong women. Women who
might have been forgotten, who fought for us to become what we are today.
Women who paved the way for me to be able to work and live independently and earn a PhD. I do this in memory of them because they could not. They are what
keep me pushing when I think I'm burned out and done.
As mentioned here before, Sara Bareilles is
the voice inside my head; her music just speaks to my soul. Probably because
she's a pianist songwriter who writes about doubting her abilities,
her most recent album "The Blessed Unrest" has become my soundtrack (also, the
title is a Martha Graham quote about persevering for your art, so bonus).
And today "Chasing the Sun, " a song exploring life and death,
summarizes my experience in that cemetery with Mamie and Martha. Texan pioneer
life was rough-- we owe it to those who came before us to embrace this life and
make the most of it that we can.
There's a history
through her
Sent to us as a gift
from the future, to show us the proof
More than that, it's
to dare us to move
And to open our eyes
and to learn from the sky
From a cemetery in
the center of Queens
You said, remember
that life is
Not meant to be
wasted
We can always be
chasing the sun!
So fill up your
lungs and just run
But always be
chasing the sun!
All we can do is try
And live like we're
still alive
